


Kaito Momota Ruins Everything

by khattikeri



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Humor, Gen, this is more like 'serious fic treated like crack' than the other way around but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24435796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khattikeri/pseuds/khattikeri
Summary: In which Kaito Momota ruins all of Tsumugi's plans purely by being an oblivious Chad.
Relationships: Momota Kaito & Everyone
Comments: 259
Kudos: 368
Collections: Quality Fics





	1. The No Homo Bathroom Operation

**Author's Note:**

> I have to thank my V3 rewrite fic server for giving me this hilarious idea. Ran, you're a goddamn genius. This is the funniest shit I've imagined all year. Seriously, thank you, I'm in goddamn tears.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chad Kaito ruins Amami's murder by insisting on going with him to the bathroom.

It was now or never.

Amami had to leave the strategy meeting now, or else the time limit would run out and he wouldn’t be able to catch the mastermind in the library. 

A small bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He toyed around with the words he was going to say in the empty air within his throat; none of the combinations sounded quite right, so he’d have to toss out whatever he was planning on saying and go with his gut instincts if he wanted to frame the sentence as naturally as possible to the ragtag group in front of him.

At last, Amami raised his hand, standing up from his seat at the same time. “Sorry,” he cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Restroom.”

Polite, quick, and snippy but not to the point of choppiness. It was perfect. He let his hand fall to his pants pocket, feather-light above the fabric that barely concealed his Survivor Perk Monopad. “I’ll be back soon,” he added, already getting around his chair and pushing it in.

And then Momota beamed at him.

“Great! My neck’s gettin’ a little stiff, we could all use the break.”

A low murmur from the others. Amami blinked, all mental faculties screeching to a halt like a train brought to stagnancy by a crotchety old woman yanking the emergency cord for her own petty entertainment. “Huh?”

“We’ll reconvene in a lil bit!” Momota announced to the room, giving a grand thumbs up at everyone. Harukawa rolled her eyes as she stood up, briskly walking past him while cracking her knuckles and shaking out her hands. Yonaga clambered up onto the table with a cheerful hum and sat cross-legged, stretching her arms high above her. Gokuhara swung his arms in circles; Chabashira began doing weird breathing exercises; Yumeno simply conked out within her own chair, snoring loud enough to pop snot bubbles every now and then.

“Uh--” Amami faltered. He hadn’t prepared for this. No amount of niceties and ordinary good-boy charm could get him out of a group break from someone as happy-go-lucky and nonsensical as Momota.

“No sweat, pal,” Momota slapped him on the back and grinned, steering him out the door and toward’s the men’s room. He stretched his arms and let out a big yawn before grinning. “Maaaan, honestly, I hadta go too, so good timing! We can go together!” He nudged Amami’s shoulder.

New, fresh beads of sweat were suddenly sliding down the back of Amami’s neck in droves. _Aaaaghhhh, go away! Please! Shoo! I have to go to the library--!_

Amami pursed his lips as he was unceremoniously escorted into the men’s restroom; Momota blinked in owlish curiosity as the door closed behind him. “Somethin’ the matter?”

“No, haha,” Amami replied with an easygoing, feigned smile, holding his hands up sheepishly. “It’s just…” _Think fast, think fast, think fast--_

A wonderful lightbulb of rational thought flickered on in his mind. “Don’t-- Don’t _girls_ usually do the whole ‘going to the bathroom together’ thing?” Amami’s smile was a little more triumphant and awkward all at once. “I mean, I don’t judge, I’m just sorta… not used to it?”

“So yer a dandy, huh,” Momota tilted his head with a tsk. “Real men can piss in each other’s presence! It’s alright! Man’s passion surpasses even the individual need for privacy! Go on!”

Amami nearly choked on his own spit. “I’d _really_ rather not--”

“Oh, no homo!” Momota shook his head. “Don’t worry at all, man.” He gestured grandly at the urinals. “Go on, the urinals are right there. Or the toilets, whichever you prefer. I ain’t gonna judge.”

 _Where the hell did I go wrong?_ Amami wondered. He decided to hold up his hands in apologetic mock-surrender and try again. “No, really, it’s okay--”

“It’s not gay to pee in front of fellow men if that’s what’s buggin’ ya!” Momota insisted, voice suddenly filled with flames of passion, and _goddamn it all,_ Amami was losing his remaining few threads of patience. “We can get through this together, Amami. C’mon! You can do this!”

“I really don’t care if I look gay or not,” Amami’s eye twitched. 

Momota blinked. “Oh, you’re bi?”

“Aromantic, actually,” Amami murmured, avoiding eye contact. He pinched his brow, voice dropping nearly an octave as the urge to yank Momota down by his jacket collar and throttle him silly bubbled up higher in his chest. “Anyway, like I said, I don’t care about looking gay, so--”

“Then what’s the matter, huh?!” Momota slammed his fist against his chest with a roar all of a sudden, more fired up than before, and the pressure of annoyance grew, bigger and bigger.

Amami grit his teeth. “What’s _the matter_ is--”

Momota charged on. “Two non-heterosexual men like us should be able ta take a leak in solidarity without any homo, shouldn’t--”

“For fuck’s sake, Momota, I don’t actually have to go to the bathroom!” Amami finally exploded, louder than he’d ever yelled before within the academy, and then time froze around them.

The silence could be cut through with a knife. Amami’s eyes widened, half in disbelief at what he’d said, half mortified that he’d revealed his own mission to one of the people he’d been trying to protect. His breathing was shallow, quick, and then--

\--and then Momota broke the silence by straightening out his posture. “So...?” He tilted his head and folded his arms. “Why’d you suddenly decide you had to leave the strategy meeting then?”

It took a moment before Amami swallowed the lump in his throat and sighed. He moved to wipe the sweat off his neck and forehead only to realize his eyes were damp with something like tears, and suddenly everything around him felt _hilarious_. He snorted, then laughed into his hand at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

“Uh, Amami?” Momota raised a brow, mildly concerned. “You good, bro…?” 

“No,” Amami admitted at last, wiping his eyes and smiling for real. “No, I’m kinda losing my mind here.”

=

“That… doesn’t make any sense to me,” Momota said after Amami had finished his explanation.

Amami waved a hand dismissively, putting the Survivor Perk Monopad back in his pocket. “It’s alright. I said what I needed to.” He hadn’t really expected anyone to get it right off the bat, but it was relieving to not be alone, even if he’d tried to take on the burden by himself.

“Y’know, we can always tell everyone to meet up by the library,” Momota suggested. “Then the mastermind comes outta the bookshelf-whatchamacallit-place and bam! We all jump ‘em an’ pummel ‘em to pieces.”

“The time limit hasn’t ended yet, so it’s worth a shot,” Amami hummed. “And I bet Chabashira-san would like something violent like that, though I probably wouldn’t personally beat them up...” He beamed. “Let’s go?”

“Yeah!” Momota grinned, and so they both went.

=

Naturally, the mastermind never left the hidden room within the bookshelf with all of them there at once. But at the very least, Amami’s special Monopad was no longer an anxious secret weighing him down. Once everyone was gathered up again, he explained it to them just as he had to Momota.

Akamatsu was apologetic, mildly upset that her and Saihara’s joint plan hadn’t worked, but the others reassured her that the effort alone to decisively end the game was appreciated.

Saihara, on the other hand, seemed nonplussed by it all, quite different from his earlier timidity. “Neither Monokuma nor the mastermind killed us all even after their ultimatum passed,” he observed. “The Monokubs and exisals didn’t even budge. Which means... there’s probably a third party incentivizing them to keep us alive,” Saihara reasoned aloud, pensive hand over his mouth. “If I’m thinking right, that means we’re being watched.”

They were gaining traction. It wasn’t perfect, but they were all alive, and for that, Amami was grateful.

=

(And it was only as Amami went to bed that night that he realized Momota didn’t actually _use_ the restroom once while they were in there together, despite claiming on their way there that he also had to go.)

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)


	2. The New Sidekick Acquisitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chad Kaito ruins Toujo's desperate murder attempt and Hoshi's depressive murder acceptance by turning them into his sidekicks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls ignore the logical fallacy where shuichi and maki only become kaito’s sidekicks to begin with bc amami and kaede die. just pretend. shh. they’re all good friends just pretend shuichi would start hanging out with other people of his own volition even with kaede alive and that maki would be more open with those two alive and nothing bad or traumatic happening shhhHH

It was good that nobody had died even when Monokuma claimed the game had begun, Hoshi thought to himself. Though he wasn’t so sure things would continue to be like that. Everyone was leaving their guards down, all whimsical and cheery, and the worst tended to happen in moments like that.

He knew, after all. He knew how bad it felt to revel in victory only to later find out just how badly things had ended up during that moment of distraction.

The videos (a motive, apparently, and Monokuma’s next attempt at getting them all to slaughter each other) had gotten mixed up on accident by the Monokubs. Hoshi doubted that was true at first, since the video he got was so shocking he might’ve actually been scared by it had he been anyone else.

It got worse when he saw his _own_ motive video. He had nothing. He was just numb to everything. That’s what Hoshi was…

Somehow, he found his way back to his ultimate lab that night.

And then he was met with Momota, sitting cross legged on the floor, chewing on what looked like Hoshi’s spare stash of candy cigarettes. “Yo!” Momota grinned, holding up a hand. “Hoshi!”

Hoshi stared at him for a long while. He sighed, then walked towards Momota against his better judgement. “What’re you here for?”

“Haha! Not much!” Momota beamed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

 _You’ve got ‘a-goddamn-ways to go if you think I’ll believe a bold-faced lie like that, astronaut._ Hoshi narrowed his eyes. “That so? Doesn’t look that way.”

Momota finished the last bit of the candy cigarette and stood up, letting out a little groan as he brushed off candy dust and slapped his knees. “Yer pretty sharp, Hoshi!” He walked towards Hoshi, til they were standing hardly a few inches apart. “Y’always have been though, I’ve seen your tennis matches.”

 _What is he, my therapist?_ Hoshi let out slightly more air through his nose in a silent laugh. “Alright, pal. Answer the question. What are you trying to do here?”

“Commit a crime,” Momota answered with a hearty laugh, and then out of nowhere he picked Hoshi up, tossed him over his shoulder, and sprinted out the door.

Hoshi yelled. “Wha-- MOMOTA--”

“I’m here to kidnap you!” Momota clarified with a breezy grin, and it took everything in Hoshi to not angrily yell back _‘No fucking shit!’_

“Why?” Hoshi settled on asking, resigning himself to his fate of being carried by Momota. Damn himself for being short and damn Momota for doing something like this.

“Oh, I wanted someone to join my new nightly exercise routines,” Momota said. “So I figured, hey, why not Hoshi? Dude’s athletic. ‘N smart. He might be a lil gloomy and sad now and then, but he’s got a bright future ahead of him. He’ll be perfect for it.”

“I don’t do friendship or nightly exercise routines,” Hoshi attempted, but Momota shushed him.

“Humans are social creatures! Basic biology, bro! No needta be shy, there’s already too many homebodies in this place!”

At last, they reached the area of the courtyard Momota was intending to reach. 

To Hoshi’s legitimate surprise, standing across from them was Harukawa, holding Toujo in a similar state. 

“Harukawa-san,” Toujo said primly, though Hoshi could detect the faintest bit of hostility in Toujo’s voice. “What is the meaning of this?”

Harukawa set Toujo down; Momota mirrored her and set Hoshi down, but put a hand on his shoulder as if to keep him put. “Momota and Amami talked me into it, the persistent bastards. I ignored them at first, but then they somehow roped in Akamatsu and Saihara, so. It got annoying.”

 _And she caved just like that?_ Hoshi wondered, alarmed. Harukawa wasn’t at all the cooperative sort. What could Momota possibly have said or done within the past week or so to give Harukawa a change of heart? Were all four of them just that chaotically annoying together?

“Talked you into kidnapping me from my duties?” Toujo echoed Hoshi’s thoughts, brows furrowing.

“You looked troubled by something,” Momota grinned; for a split second, Toujo’s eyes were wide as saucers. “And so did Hoshi here, so yeah. Let’s exercise! A hundred pushups!”

“None of us can do that,” Saihara sighed, walking up to them with Amami and Akamatsu in tow. Akamatsu giggled.

“I’m sure some of us can, but most of us aren’t all that athletic,” Akamatsu admitted. “Still, I was surprised you reached out to so many of us this quickly! Any reason for the bigger group tonight?”

Momota gave them all a thumbs up. “You’ll find out soon.”

And for some reason, they all set about to do the hundred pushups. All seven of them. Christ, that was nearly half.

Why Hoshi was even bothering with this idiocy, he didn’t know.

 _‘Bright future’? What the hell is he talking about?_

_Momota… that cheerful idiot doesn’t know a thing._

_There’s nothing for me to live for…_

“Holy _shit,_ Hoshi, you’re fast--” Momota nearly tripped over himself trying to match Hoshi’s pace; Hoshi himself hadn’t even realized how many he’d done in such a short time period. “You might actually have Harumaki beat--”

“Do you wanna die?” Harukawa wiped her hands as she sat on the grass, fully finished. She glared at Momota. 

Momota paused, then laughed. “Didn’t I already tell ya? Harumaki, ‘cuz Haru from Harukawa and Maki from M--”

“I know, you already explained it once, just--” Harukawa sighed, holding up a hand as if to shield herself from his airheadedness. “Quit being stupid.”

Momota laughed as he continued doing pushups. “Sure thing!”

 _He totally won’t stop,_ Hoshi rolled his eyes, finishing his own set of a hundred. _But it’s weird how quickly Momota managed to befriend all these people._

Amami and Toujo were done fairly quickly after. “Whoo!” Amami stretched a bit afterwards, face radiant in the moonlight. “Feels good to exercise,” he admitted. 

Toujo wiped the drops of sweat from her forehead. “I’m not accustomed to direct exercise, rather than exercising through the work I do, but I suppose it’s fine…”

“How do you guys do this,” Saihara wheezed, sounding like he was dying. Akamatsu had collapsed in a grassy heap after something close to twenty pushups.

“I can hold my arms up fine alone, that’s just normal piano stuff,” Akamatsu whined through the grass. “But putting my full body weight on my arms hurts…”

“Full body weight?” Hoshi echoed incredulously. He scoffed. “It’s supposed to be evenly distributed. If you lean forward and keep all the weight on your arms, of course it’ll hurt.”

“Ohhh,” Akamatsu laughed. “Say that sooner, Hoshi-kun!” 

“Uuuugghh,” Saihara groaned. “My bones…”

Akamatsu yanked a piece of grass off the ground and poked Saihara’s nose with it. Saihara sneezed, then whined at her, then both of them fell apart in childish giggles.

Hoshi tore his gaze away. It reminded him too much of _her._ Of how things used to be, and of how he no longer had anything like that…

“Hey,” Momota said finally, eyes not leaving the sky. “What I actually wanted to talk about… Was the motive videos.”

All six other heads snapped around to look at him.

“Momota-kun?” Toujo asked quietly.

“I had Shuichi’s,” Momota shrugged; Saihara made no reaction at the use of his given name, which surprised Hoshi-- were they already all so close with each other? “And… I know a little bit about some ‘a the others.” He sat up, then looked carefully at the others. “Toujo… you had your own, didn’t you?”

Toujo froze. “I…”

“Hey,” Amami turned, suddenly serious. “Toujo-san?”

Toujo clenched her fists in her lap. “I… did, yes.”

“I overheard Hoshi playin’ his own after he traded Harumaki here for it,” Momota whistled; now it was Hoshi’s turn to freeze.

“Do you just know everything?” Hoshi narrowed his eyes at last. What the hell was the point of all this?

“You two looked real troubled this week,” Momota declared, suddenly standing up. “And real men don’t leave their friends alone when they’re feelin’ off! ‘Specially not the Luminary of the Stars himself! Get it?!”

(Out of the corner of his eyes, Hoshi noticed Amami hiding an amused smile behind his hand.)

“You two can rely on us! On me _and_ all my other sidekicks!” Momota boomed, pumping a fist off his chest. “Bros don’t hide secrets, and definitely not when those secrets were given to us by a shitty fuckin’ bear like Monokuma.”

“In other words,” Saihara interrupted quietly, “You’d like us to reveal whose motive videos we had and what they said?”

“Bros don’t hide secrets of their own,” Momota rectified his statement. “If it’s someone else’s secret, it’s more unmanly to spill.”

“Does he have a handbook full of heroic rules like this?” Akamatsu murmured. Saihara shrugged.

“Mine said…” Toujo wavered a bit. “...In essence, that I am the prime minister of Japan, and the world is close to destruction.”

Momota stared at her. “You’re like, seventeen, tops.”

“I am a maid of high caliber,” Toujo sniffed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I somehow ended up wielding the power of a figurehead master.”

“Okay, but you’re like, seventeen,” Momota emphasized. He waved his hands wildly. “Oh, whoa, I’m not tryin’ to pull the _sexism_ card here, all women are queens, y’know, but-- c’mon, Toujo. We’re all teenagers. You put responsibility on yourself a lot, but you gotta be a little more logical than assuming you’re the actual prime minister of a whole country before you’re even legally allowed to be.”

 _I can see that,_ Hoshi decided. _But…_

“Didn’t you forge your documents so you could do astronaut training early?” Harukawa scoffed. Amami snorted; Momota squawked, clearly not expecting to be called out on it. 

“W-Whatever, that was like-- lemme make my point, dammit!”

Toujo blinked, then chuckled, almost looking sheepish after having been distracted from her thoughts. “I… suppose I was letting it get to my head…”

“You looked surprised when Momota-kun mentioned you looking stressed out,” Akamatsu suggested gently. “Was… was the motive video really…?”

“...It bothered me, yes,” Toujo said quietly. “I was so focused on what it meant for me as a maid that… I forgot what it probably meant for myself as a person, if I had actually listened to it and let it drag me to murder.”

“Glad you’ve changed your mind,” Momota grinned. He beamed as he turned to Hoshi. “And you!”

“My motive video wasn’t wrong like Toujo’s,” Hoshi let out a small scoff. _It’s not the same for me._

“If yer bein’ that stubborn, it prolly is!” Momota chirped. 

_I’m so fucking sick of this._

“I don’t have a future, okay?!” Hoshi snapped, angrily pointing at the borders of the cage surrounding them. “There _is_ no motive for me, because there’s nobody alive beyond this dome who cares about me.”

He scrunched his eyes shut, slumping down with a defeated chuckle. “I’ve got nothin’,” he sighed.

“You’ve got us, don’t you?” Momota nudged him quietly.

Hoshi’s eyes flew open.

“One hero and six sidekicks and nine not-yet-sidekicks,” Momota listed off, “and the stars, and tennis, and candy cigarettes, and cats, and your whole life ahead of you after your teenage years, and you say you have _nothing?”_

Hoshi opened his mouth to speak. He closed his mouth. His throat felt heavy with air; his eyes, conversely, heavy with tears.

“Don’t choke it back now,” Momota offered him a fistbump, then slung an arm around Hoshi’s shoulder like it was still middle school and they’d met in the finals. “You’re still grieving, I bet.”

Hoshi pulled his hat over his face, unable to hide the twin streams quietly leaking down his face. “Yeah,” he choked out.

“But it ain’t gonna stop ya from the future, is it?” Momota asked hotly. “You aren’t gonna let some fake as hell video from Monokuma beat your resolve, right?!”

“No, you moron,” Hoshi mockingly shoved Momota, unable to stop the stupid grin from breaking his face. “Nah... I won’t.”

“You’ll reach for the stars, Hoshi,” Momota smiled at him, pure and brighter than even the moon. “Like your name means.” He paused. “Ah! Not before me though! I’m the luminary, you’re a sidekick, gotta know your place--”

“If I can beat you at pushups, I can beat you at reaching future goals,” Hoshi snorted.

“Anyway! Toujo!” Momota changed targets, likely because he had no retorts left. Hoshi shook his head, far too amused for his own liking. “You’re a sidekick too! Got it?! Reach for the stars!”

“I don’t mind staying on Earth,” Toujo hid her smile behind her hand, “but I appreciate the sentiment. Truly.” Her eyes shone a little as she looked at the ground, and whispered: “Thank you, Momota-kun.”

Hoshi had to agree.

“You guys need to sleep,” a new voice came out from behind them; all seven of them startled. 

Shirogane tapped her foot, unamused and-- were those bags under her eyes? Hoshi squinted, but in the darkness, it was a little hard to tell. “It’s way past nighttime.”

“No problem, we were just going to bed,” Amami got up, brushing off grass from his pants. The others murmured in agreement, getting up in turn. 

Shirogane briskly turned on her heel and left, muttering something or other about executive decisions and shrinking stats.

“I’m not your sidekick, for the record,” Hoshi clarified to Momota as they walked back inside. “Dunno how you got Harukawa of all people to agree, but I’m not much of a group fella.”

“Every hero’s got his ways,” Momota laughed. 

Fine enough of an answer for him. Hoshi didn’t need to know.

“...Thanks, Momota,” Hoshi smiled. “I mean it.”

Momota held out a hand, and Hoshi high-fived it. “Anytime, bro.”

=

“What do you _mean_ I can’t give him an illness now, are you kidding? At this rate, he’ll jeopardize the whole game!” Shirogane bit her nails, half in the mood to tear off the pretty nail polish. “No, I-- you can’t just expect me to move on to the next chapter’s murders, I--”

The dial tone droned. Evidently, the man on the other end hadn’t wanted to hear her out. 

Shirogane threw the receiver down, picked up the shot put ball she never got to use, and slammed it into the floor in a rage. In front of her, Motherkuma cackled.

 _Fuck_ TV executives.

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beginning to wonder if this is more of a himbo kaito thing than a chad kaito thing. hm. on another note, i'm glad to announce the expansion of kaito's (wholly platonic) sidekick harem. congrats killing game ruining king


	3. The Intellectual Hyperfixation Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chad Kaito foils any potential double murders by chatting about inane topics in a locked room with Shinguji, Angie, and Tenko.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of my LGBT headcanons for the v3 cast are in here! Other than that it's just Seinfeldian conversation and character musings.

Shinguji Korekiyo loved people.

He loved to observe others, look at their habits and routines and cultures and then connect those bits of information. People were never boring, and so it was wonderful, unpredictable fun to observe them. 

Even today, Shinguji was struck by something unpredictable. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why Momota, who was clearly scared of the occult and of the ancient, had bothered holing himself up in Shinguji’s lab. The only reason Shinguji could think of was that he had wanted to avoid any shenanigans with flashback lights or the Necronomicon Monokuma had introduced.

“Fun place ya got, man,” Momota sneezed at a cloud of dust from some old scrolls, then shivered, looking warily around as if a ghost would pop out any minute. “I don’ really get the hype, but I guess we all got our hobbies.”

“Nyahahaha! Kaitoooo, are you scared?” Angie intentionally lowered her voice to spook the other boy into shrieking.

Perhaps more unpredictable was that Momota had insisted on bringing Angie and Chabashira with him. The latter had thrown quite the hissy fit, threatening to aikido flip Momota to hell and back for luring her in with promises of an all-girls meeting with Akamatsu and Yumeno, but had eventually settled into quietude, consoling herself with sips of green tea and the occasional bitter glare at Momota. 

Shinguji opted to join in on Angie’s teasing. “It certainly is unexpected, Momota-kun,” he quirked a brow in amusement. “For you to ask to spend time with the three of us.”

Momota gave him a shaky thumbs up. “Gotta get ta know everyone here, y’know? Wouldn’t be manly or swag to just sit around all day with the same people!”

Chabashira wrinkled her nose. “Ew, who even says words like ‘swag’ anymore?”

Shinguji’s eyes lit up, mirthful. “Outdated slang, certainly, but I don’t dislike his passion.”

“Isn’t it supposed to stand for ‘secretly we are gay’?” Angie tilted her head. She folded her hands in prayer. “God loves you for who you are, Kaito. He and Angie are happy you trusted us with this!”

“Uh, I’m--” Momota looked around, blinked, then changed course-- _fascinating,_ Shinguji thought, _how he just decided to go with the flow of the conversation._ “I just meant it was dope ‘n all, y’know? No homo. But I’m totally an LGBT ally!”

“Rantaro mentioned to Angie once that you were bi, though,” Angie smiled knowingly. Chabashira snorted.

 _No homo, indeed._ Shinguji looked up at the open-beam ceiling of his lab, thoughtful. “Aren’t all of us LGBT in some capacity?” His hair swished a bit as he rolled his neck. 

From what he had observed of the sixteen students trapped in the academy, Shinguji classified them into certain categories. Amami, like himself, was aromantic and nonbinary. Kiibo was agender. Chabashira was a blatant lesbian; Ouma, conversely, was blatantly gay. Through various interactions, he had eventually discerned that the majority of others were bisexual or pansexual, with some of them being asexual. Some, such as Saihara, were transgender.

For all his research though, Shinguji found that Momota, despite all his unabashed hot-headedness and busybodying, was quite difficult to read. It was a little exhilarating. Like being tied up with shibari techniques, but on a purely mental level. 

It was peaceful.

=

“Huh, guess we are,” Momota blinked. “Duuuude, we should totally make a sixteen-person gay club. But like, nothing serious like making and enforcing rules or whatever. We all just chill. Laissez-faire.”

“I’m impressed you even know that word to begin with,” Chabashira muttered. Angie snickered.

Chabashira wasn’t fond of men. She was particularly not fond of menaces like Momota, who took advantage of her pure love for Akamatsu and Yumeno and every other girl in the academy to rope her into some strange mixer-type scenario in Shinguji’s creepy ancient librarian lab.

But with how they were all forced to stay in this school together, she’d come to find that boys weren’t completely bad. Annoying at best for sure. But they weren’t the monsters she’d made them out to be. It was actually enjoyable to have friends and be able to express her energy without being considered annoying. Her time with Akamatsu, Yumeno, even with Angie-- it was fun.

Chabashira wouldn’t give it up even for the world.

(Not that she’d ever admit that to the group in front of her.)

=

“Angie’s thought about forming something like a Student Council,” Angie hummed. “God said it could be good to establish rules if we’re going to stay here and live forever.”

God’s will was the will of what was best for others. Angie did her best to follow it no matter what. 

“No way!” Chabashira interrupted, flabbergasted. “We’re finding an escape route!”

“So you say, but we’ve all been rather relaxed about that lately,” Shinguji sighed. “Frankly, I wouldn’t mind staying longer. The files here are all informative, and there’s no present danger of murder the way Monokuma keeps insinuating.”

Momota, who had been sitting cross-legged with his chin in his hands, suddenly looked up. “There was that motive. The necro-Comic Con whatever thing.”

“Necronomicon,” Angie corrected serenely, struggling not to laugh at him. Chabashira had no such qualms and laughed directly in his face.

“Brush your teeth, woman!” Momota swatted at her. Chabashira grabbed his arm and flipped him on his back before he even knew he had to yell.

“Degenerate men,” Chabashira sniffled. “No decency, no delicacy, no tolerance for even simple green tea breath.”

“Anyway!” Momota croaked from the ground. “Necronomicon. Death book. Ghosts and scary shit. Motive.”

“Please,” Shinguji sighed, rolling his eyes with the same creepy yet oddly charming grace he always exuded. “It’s only natural that nobody would take such a ridiculous motive seriously. Even if such an artifact exists, there is no point in using it and attempting the ritual when nobody has died.”

Angie agreed with Shinguji. It was remarkable to her how blasphemous such a book could even be, but no matter. She didn’t care for books that didn’t teach God’s word. Especially not a book that encroached on God’s domain of life and death.

Angie hummed. “If Angie didn’t know any better, she’d say the mastermind’s plans are being foiled pretty badly if they expected people to die by now~”

Chabashira sighed. “Honestly, it’s scary knowing that someone wants us to kill each other that badly…”

“‘Long as none of y’all intend to use it!” Momota beamed. “Change in topic. Do any of you have siblings?”

“No,” came the unanimous reply. Momota blinked, somewhat surprised-- _ooh, he’s looking at Korekiyo,_ Angie realized. _Not a love match made by God, but something else..._

It was the same look that he’d gotten on his face earlier in the week, when Shirogane brought out a treasure chest that she found in one of the hallways, and the weird little junk contraption in it. Monokuma called it a flashback light and said it should’ve given them their memories back, but they hadn’t used it because Momota had holed himself in his room, complaining of ‘ _a stomachache so bad that gravity is chaining me to my bed, caused by complications relating to ghost sightings on the fourth floor’._ Monokuma had pouted, saying it had to be used with everyone all at once, and that was that.

Toujo had apologized even when Momota insisted it wasn’t caused by her food or any worse illness. Around half of the others went to visit or attempt to comfort him, but he shooed them away, laughing and saying he didn’t want anyone else getting sick because of him. At some point, he left his room, only to get a _‘sudden dizzy spell’_ and crash into the table where Monokuma last left the flashback light, breaking it into pieces.

As per usual, he laughed it off.

Later on in private, he had asked Angie if she’d gotten any strange urges to break it. 

At the time, God had suggested to Angie that Momota was hiding something. Angie had agreed wholeheartedly, but didn’t care quite enough to pry, and so had only told him the truth: it was something new, so God told Angie not to do anything like break it just yet.

His reaction was hard to describe, but it was interesting. 

“No siblings for any of us then, that’s cool,” Momota let out a low whistle. “I’m an only child, too.”

“If this is a question game of some sort, may I ask the next question?” Shinguji enquired politely. “How many of you are interested in Russo-Japanese relations? Or perhaps Russian folktales?”

“Not me,” Chabashira scoffed.

“Oh, I know Russian,” Momota grinned. “Culture, language, food, you got it!”

Angie hummed, noncommittal. It was fun to watch Momota, Angie had decided. He was fun to tease too. If only he were a little less oblivious and a little more religious…

“Right, you’re an astronaut,” Chabashira pondered. She got a competitive gleam in her eye. “Say something in Russian!”

“I’m more used to tropical areas, so my Russian is rather rusty,” Shinguji mused. “I would like to hear some, if you’re willing.”

“Sure!” Momota beamed. 

_Angie wonders what he’ll do this time._

Momota took in a deep breath, then frowned, serious. “Я застрял во временной петле этой убийственной игры и мне кажется, единственный способ сбежать оттуда это уберечь моих друзей от смерти.”

Complex, complex! Angie hadn’t the faintest clue what gibberish he was speaking, but it sounded neat. She clapped, oohing and aahing all the while.

=

Shinguji caught the word друзей , meaning “friends”, but Momota had spoken so fast it was difficult to tell what the full sentence was. “What-- what was that?”

Momota laughed. “I said, _‘I really like hanging out with you guys in this academy, and I think we’re a lot closer friends now.’_ ”

Shinguji’s eyes widened, touched. Even Chabashira mellowed a bit at that. “Aw…”

“So, Shinguji!” Momota pumped a fist. “Tell us more about Russo-Japanese stuff. I only know linguistics and base-level culture stuff from training at JAXA.”

“You… You would like to hear it?” Shinguji asked, flummoxed. “I only know a few Russian folktales, but…”

Momota nodded, genuinely eager. “We’ve got all day, don’t we? Not like anything bad’s gonna happen either,” he laughed. 

“Angie thinks it’d be fun,” Angie twirled around one of her paintbrushes. 

Chabashira crossed her arms. “I’m not totally opposed to it. As long as you tell stories involving cool girls.”

Shinguji smiled.

“Then let’s start with this story…”

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Ana for translating the line I wanted Kaito to say in Russian!
> 
> Kaito lies as easily as he breathes, so readers should fact check his Russian and then shame me in the comments!
> 
> I MEAN IT. PUT THE RUSSIAN IN GOOGLE TRANSLATE. THINGS WILL MAKE SENSE LATER. :^)


	4. The Traditionalist Escapism Method

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chad Kaito avoids the Neo World Program route by suggesting they all watch a movie together instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> general warning for iruma's potty mouth. i think i'm getting better at writing it because before, i'd just never write her saying vile shit beyond normal cusses. 
> 
> general warning also for ouma being a disgusting little shit whenever it comes to things iruma says or does. 
> 
> actually, i think i'm just being desensitized to the gross stuff they say.

Iruma Miu was a wonderful, intelligent, sexy, perfect, stunning, amazing, gorgeous girl genius.

She was also gullible as all fuck. This was something that Shirogane Tsumugi wished to exploit.

“I’ve gone everywhere in the academy at this point,” Shirogane sighed over dinner. She slumped over her plate, closing her eyes “I feel terribly bored…”

She squinted one eye open to see Iruma’s reaction. There was none. Iruma’s slightly-too-large bite of tonkatsu had gone down her windpipe, and Kiibo was violently slapping Iruma’s back so that she could hack it out.

“What do you _mean,_ humans have the pipe for breathing and for eating in the same fixture?!” Kiibo shrieked. He continued to slap. “I mean, I’m designed to look human, but I didn’t _know_ that!”

Iruma cackled, the bite of tonkatsu now back where it should’ve gone. She made obscene pumping motions with her hand. “It’s the dick-sucking fixture too!”

Kiibo turned scarlet, slapping her back slightly harder in his flustered state. “S-Stop saying gross things at the dinner table!”

 _I’m so plain they can’t even hear me…_ Shirogane sighed theatrically, then spoke up louder: “I’ve gone everywhere in the academy… and I feel bored now…”

Iruma let out a loud whistle, followed by gratuitous slurping noises. _“AND_ IT’S THE FIXTURE USED FOR EATING OUT PUS--”

Kiibo let out a noise somewhere in between a malfunctioning air conditioner and a dying mammal. “IRUMA-SAAAAAAAAAAAAN!”

“OH, GROW THE FUCK UP!” Shirogane slammed her hands on the table, shaking up the tableware in her sudden fit of maladjusted rage. Kiibo and Iruma were silenced.

Momota, one of the few people left in the dining hall, only yawned as if none of it was remotely out of the ordinary. 

“Night,” he said nonchalantly as he left, and Shirogane was left baffled.

He was Shirogane’s best written character, definitely. 

But it was to the point where even she herself was confused by him.

=

“Feast yer eyes on this bad bitch!” Iruma gestured as she unveiled her latest project.

Shirogane’s otaku-ish daydreams had ended up being sound advice when it came to whipping up new tech. Iruma would’ve been impressed had she not held the belief that all weebs were cucks deep within her heart.

 _Liking anime when you’re a kid just has a different flavor to it than dedicating yer whole life to it when you’re almost grown, cumstain,_ was how Iruma chose to explain it. Not her damn fault Shirogane got her panties in a twist over it and started yelling some impassioned speech about weebscrimination and waifu tits and how _‘Just because my name starts with Shiro doesn’t mean you have license to give me sex-themed insulting nicknames, Iruma-san!!!!!!’_ or whatever the fuck.

God, Shirogane was weird. 

But who cared about Shirogane? Nobody! Absolutely nobody cared about someone as plain and petty as her. The star of today’s show was Iruma’s Neo World Program.

Some of them-- Shyhara, Bakamatsu; basically all of Hoemota’s squad, which was almost everyone in the stupid school, minus Hoemota himself-- politely clapped, if not yawned. Kiibo listened attentively. Shirogane stood in awkward silence. Ouma, the motherfucker, had the audacity to drape himself all over Gonta and fake snore as loud as humanly possible.

It was a little weird, actually-- for someone so chipper, Hoemota was pretty quiet. Stole glances at Shyhara every now and then, and at Big Dick, and even at Grape Bitch Ouma. As if he’d already experienced something as new and exciting as the Neo World Program. As if her latest invention was something he had zero interest in over these three others. As if…

 _Forget it,_ Iruma told herself sternly. _He’s prolly just imagining his dream foursome playin’ out, so--_

Hold on. Hoemota was glancing at her too.

Heat surged in Iruma’s cheeks. _Why’s he lookin’ at me all solemn and shit?!_

Hoemota blinked. “Somethin’ up, Iruma?” He grinned. “It’s okay to get stage fright, pal! We’ll wait as long as it takes ya!” He pumped a fist against his chest, all manly and dudebro-y and perfectly Hoemota, and instantly, Iruma’s horrified yet not-entirely-opposed daydreams of Hoemota’s fantasies washed away.

_He’s too much of a Chad to think about that shit. Just ignore him and explain. And DON’T imagine it anymore._

(She allowed herself to imagine it for just five more seconds, reasoning that a dramatic pause was necessary for effect.) 

“Behold the Neo World Program!” Iruma finally began her introduction, launching immediately into her explanation of precisely what it did and why. 

=

Somewhere in the middle, Gonta raised his hand to politely interrupt her. “Um-- Iruma-san?”

Iruma paused. “Yeah, big dick?”

Gonta sighed, by now desensitized enough to not blush at Iruma’s crassness, but still finding it in immensely poor taste. “Don’t call Gonta that, please…” Ouma elbowed him pointedly; Gonta continued. “Ah, his question was this: did you make this for everyone to go in because we’ve explored all of the academy?”

Iruma blinked. “Uh, yeah. Get ourselves a new place to escape to since we haven’t found an exit ‘n all.”

“So you DO admit that you think we’re all hopeless incompetent hacks?” Ouma accused, suddenly passionate and upset. “I’m disappointed in you, Iruma-chan. You really think so little of us? And when we work so hard to help you and find a way out of here every day!”

Iruma squealed, seeming like she was enjoying being yelled at. “Hiiii-- y-you don’t have to be so mad…”

Momota rubbed his temple, scrunching his eyes shut and taking deep breaths in and out.

 _So even the usually happy Momota-kun gets stressed sometimes,_ Gonta thought to himself. _Or annoyed._

“Oooh, did I make Momota-chan mad? Did I? Did I?” Ouma seemed to have noticed it as well, and delightfully skipped over to poke Momota’s sides. “Are you mad?”

“‘m not mad,” Momota replied.

Ouma poked him again. “Are you mad?”

“‘m not mad,” Momota repeated, this time a bit more gruffly.

Ouma poked him again. “Are you--”

Momota grabbed him by the wrist and yanked, a thin smile stretching across his face. “Look, _buddy._ I’m not mad. I’m like, totally chill.”

“The little vein popping on your forehead says otherwise, Momota-chan,” Ouma wriggled, snickering.

Iruma looked a little impatient at the distraction; Gonta could see the clouded expression on her face. _Gonta should be helpful to his friends, so..._

“Enough, Ouma-kun,” Gonta chided, picking Ouma up and carrying him away much like one would carry a cat making scrambled attempts to escape an impending bath. 

“Thanks, Gonta!” Momota gave him a thumbs up, then made childish faces at Ouma, to which Ouma responded by flipping him off indignantly.

“So,” Yumeno shifted warily, among the first of anyone else to speak up. “Are we getting in this thing?”

“It could lead us to an incentive to escape, if not an actual escape route…” Shirogane shuffled cryptically.

“Oh, nah,” Momota waved the very suggestion aside. “I mean, like, it’s super cool ‘n all, but isn’t it too… I’unno, fancy?”

A murmur rose within the group. 

Gonta _did_ think technology was fancy. It was hard for him to really grasp the same way he understood nature.

“As opposed to what?” Iruma demanded. 

Momota shrugged. “Like watching a movie? C’mon, if you wanna escape into another world, we’ve got the movie room in the basement and like, thousands of DVDs. And there’s also the sky and stars to dream about!”

=

A movie.

A movie?!

A stupid movie was ruining this chapter? Shirogane already went through the painstaking trouble of having the Monokubs sneak the card key and the flashback light into Iruma’s digital world! 

Harukawa put a hand on her forehead-- she was _facepalming,_ but she was smiling. Most of the others were smiling or chuckling amongst themselves at the sincerity and simplicity of Momota’s suggestion. 

“Huh…” Iruma scratched her head. “That’s not a bad point… Fuckin’... ‘kay, I guess.” Her face lit up, and Shirogane distinctly remembered that Iruma’s backstory meant that she wouldn’t be opposed to something like watching a movie. “But I get to call the movie!”

“Like [CENSORED] you will,” Kiibo immediately tried to steer her away. “I refuse to subject Professor Iidabashi’s AI or the sixteen of us to any more profanity or vulgarity!”

Shirogane could only stare. _Did she put in a maintenance filter on him so he’d be able to say ‘[CENSORED]’ out loud?_

It didn’t matter-- even as Shirogane was thinking it, Iruma tossed drapes over her invention and left the computer lab with the others to head down to the basement for their late-night movie session.

“Oh, but we should totally keep the lights on,” Ouma said. “I know because Iruma-chan here might pee herself stupid if she gets scared.”

“Hiiiiehh--! Sh-Shut it, you flaming homo twink piece of garbage--”

“You could’ve said that without being gross about it, Ouma-san,” Chabashira wrinkled her nose.

“Right?” Yumeno sighed.

“And Kiiboy shouldn’t have the advantage of an in-built flashlight when the rest of us sit in the dark because I’m evil and don’t believe in things like affirmative action,” Ouma continued, as if any of those words put together made any goddamn sense at all. “So we should keep the lights on and let him suffer.”

“Hey!” Kiibo protested. “Don’t be robophobic!”

“As the Luminary of the Stars and your leader, I insist that the lights stay on,” Momota declared loudly. “No watching movies in the dark!”

“What’s gotten you so riled up about keeping the lights on?” Harukawa furrowed her brows. “Not that I care, but…”

“Surely you aren’t insisting on keeping the lights on out of fear, Momota-kun?” Shinguji inquired. “It is better to be in touch with one’s emotions and experience films in their fullest, truest forms.”

“Real men ain’t scared of little things like that!” Momota brushed him off.

“God says do what you like!” Angie giggled. 

“It would be better to keep the lights on for us all to see our surroundings better,” Toujo concurred, “since I will be bringing snacks and such from the kitchen.” 

“Gonta can help with food, Toujo-san!” Gonta volunteered himself.

“Awesome!” Akamatsu laughed. “All of us watching movies at night with snacks and everything? This is almost like a sixteen-person sleepover!”

“It is kind of exciting, isn’t it?” Saihara smiled.

“Long as we don’t watch a yakuza flick I’m good,” Hoshi sighed, though he looked pleased throughout.

“Let’s put on something everyone would like, then,” Amami beamed.

They chattered away as they walked.

And infuriatingly-- infuriatingly, Shirogane was the only one plain enough to be left behind without being able to get a single word in edgewise.

 _I can’t even stage a last minute murder in the dark because they insisted on keeping the lights on._

Shirogane clenched her fists by her side.

Only one more chapter. One more chance for her to get at least one murder in before the final trial.

Season 53 had to be salvaged somehow.

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gotta love pop team epic references amirite fellas.
> 
> next time, see how ouma completely destroys the structure of this serious fic dressed in a crack fic's clothing. can't wait to see how this story gets away from my intentions for a second time yeehaw
> 
> it is 2:30 am so goodnight gang


	5. The Frenemy Misunderstanding Clearance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which one Kokichi Ouma confronts the real Kaito about his Chad-like savior complex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for vague mentions of what happened in canon chapter 5. If you don't want to read that, skip from "[...] wringing his hands" to "Oh... well. That sounds [...]"
> 
> all that aside, thanks for waiting! this fic is really not meant to be taken seriously, but i hope the meta-adjacent character things are fun or interesting regardless.

Ouma Kokichi hasn’t had a reason to do anything drastic… yet.

There had been minor things, like making sure the lights were on so the mastermind didn’t try any shit when they all went to watch a movie, but nothing particularly show-stopping. He had watched and waited-- after all, there was no game to actually stop, so he hadn’t felt the need to buckle down and come up with any plans. 

No, in fact, Ouma had traipsed along on his merry way with Gonta the vast majority of the time. This being the case, he hadn’t been there in person to see just how Momota managed to befriend and be-sidekick nearly everyone in the academy, but there was also a deepening sense of envy and irritation that prickled in Ouma’s evil, evil black supreme leader heart.

How dare this fucking _clown_ act more like a leader than him? And how and why was he being so discrete about that casual manipulation?

Ouma had wheedled information out of people through his little lies and mischiefs-- a necessary investigation, since Momota was so suspicious and terrible. The astronaut had bewitched Amami first, roping in Akamatsu and Saihara along the way. Then he had charmed Harukawa, Hoshi, and Toujo. And then he had claimed Yumeno, Shinguji, Angie, and Chabashira. And then he had seduced Iruma, sort-of-probably Kiibo, and even Gonta.

Ouma’s own best friend! Ouma’s own ridiculously gullible pawn! How dare Momota infringe on his territory as a leader. 

This was war, clearly.

Momota himself always stared at Ouma far longer than necessary, so Ouma understood, as all intelligent dictators do, that his loathing must’ve be mutual. Ouma teased and lied, and Momota would respond with irritation. It never grew more tense or malicious than that.

More than loathing, it had almost felt like he’d gone and gotten himself a nemesis.

(How exciting.)

Gonta, apparently, had not found it quite as exciting, though he nodded politely and listened whenever Ouma complained about his new frenemy. It was enough. Leaders needed followers, and if Ouma had a follower in Gonta, that was good enough for the time being.

It was less good if Momota, the grinning, thieving space case, couldn’t keep his grubby little hands to himself and stole Ouma’s sole follower in this godforsaken academy. 

All that aside… Ouma could tell Momota was lying about something. The longer the game went on, the more it seemed obvious that Momota knew what was going on the killing game, and was trying to prevent deaths. But what did _he_ know that Ouma didn’t...

“Ouma-kun, you’re making Gonta feel dizzy,” Gonta frowned at him from where he sat criss-cross on the floor of Ouma’s dorm room.

Ouma stopped in place, sending a quizzical look over at Gonta. “Whatever do you mean, Gonta dearest?”

“You’re pacing in circles again,” Gonta sighed, looking a little sad. “If something is bothering you, Ouma-kun, Gonta will try to be helpful.” 

“You can be helpful by bringing me my evil whiteboard so that I can evilly scheme to evilly kill someone with my evil Expo markers that I stole from the evil warehouse,” Ouma grinned at him.

Gonta looked horrified. “No! Gonta won’t help with killing!”

Ouma snickered. “Relax, relax, it was a lie.”

“Oh…” Gonta got up, then wheeled the whiteboard over. “So then what will you use it for?”

Ouma popped the cap off the Expo marker and began drawing. “Just a little something.”

=

“Okay,” Momota said, for some reason vaguely amused instead of rightfully terrified. “You lured me into the Death Road and had Gonta seal and guard the only reasonable exit… why?”

“I dunno, Momota-chan,” Ouma kept both arms cheerily behind his head as he teased. “Call it a love confession.”

The smile fell off Momota’s face.

“What do you actually want, Ouma?” he asked. 

(Somehow, this was off-script from what Ouma was expecting. It was frustrating-- Momota was always, always off-script…)

“I’d like to know where you get the big idea that you can play the big boy leader role and have everyone wrapped around your finger,” Ouma put on a nasty grin from end to end. _That oughta scare him a little, the coward..._

Momota only sighed, all tension withdrawn from his face. “At least you get it.”

 _Huh?_ He looked _relaxed?_ Momota was…

It was only then, in that moment, after weeks of nobody dying and the game being at an absolute standstill, that Ouma was actually able to put his thoughts into words:

_Momota Kaito lies as easily as he breathes. He’s done this before, hasn’t he?_

It was just a _fact_ at this point. How Ouma didn’t realize earlier is a goddamn mystery.

_His leader thing was obviously a lie, and he was obnoxious about really weird details, but… how could I not realize he wasn’t just a delusional, scared idiot himself?_

“Awful calm for the victim of a holdup, aren’t you?” Ouma sneered.

“Pfft…” Momota sat down, casual. “I was actually hopin’ to talk to you. You’re smart.”

Ouma tried not to preen at the praise. “Congratulations, Momoron-chan. You have eyes.”

“You _really_ never let your guard down, huh,” Momota rolled his eyes. “No matter what I do or how many times I do it, you’re the toughest damn nut to crack out of everyone.”

_‘What I do or how many times…’?_

An idea popped up in Ouma’s head. Crazy though it sounded, it did seem plausible based purely on how Momota was reacting.

_I mean, even if videogames use mechanics like that, there’s no way Momota’s actually in a time loop, right…? He’s just been in a killing game before and that’s why he’s observant, probably..._

“You’re in a time loop,” Ouma offered his idea seriously, and then bit his tongue to prevent himself from laughing or claiming to be joking.

Momota sighed again-- he’d been doing a lot of that lately, it really didn’t suit him-- then sat down. "No matter how many times I loop, I always have the very first one stuck in my head," Momota murmured faintly, wringing his hands. "The arrows. The press. All the blood.”

_Oh… well. That sounds… pretty bad..._

(It didn’t take a genius to imagine what could've possibly happened in a loop like that.)

"And no matter how many times I think about what happened then," Momota continued, unperturbed, "I don't think I can ever hate you. I can’t go back to how I thought of you before then."

"No need for love confessions on your end, Momota-chan," Ouma brushed him off airily. "Unfortunately for you, my heart's already taken."

(It isn't, Ouma thought absently to himself, but what the astronaut doesn’t know won’t hurt him.)

“Of all people, I miss _you,_ ridiculously enough,” Momota sniffed only once, then looked up at the ceiling. “And I miss all of them. The versions of all of you that I got to to know and grow with first.”

Ouma had never been truly rendered speechless in his life, but there was always a first for everything.

It was unsettling. Knowing that Momota Kaito probably knew everything about him already, yet that it was all one-sided. To see his frenemy this honest.

It wasn’t right.

Perhaps more unsettling was that Momota did know him well-- well enough to have sensed Ouma’s minuscule shift in discomfort. “I know it’s uncomfortable to hear,” Momota chuckled. “You’ve never liked this sort of vulnerability, whether it’s comin’ from your mouth or someone else’s.” He sighed quietly. “I know. But I’ve been wantin’ to say it.”

“...How many times have you looped?” Ouma found himself asking.

Momota tilted his head. “More than five but less than ten? I lost count. At one point I made it to the end of the game, but I still looped back to the start anyway because people had died in between… or at least, that’s what I’m assumin’.”

“So you’re trying to save everyone to get out,” Ouma hummed. “Well, that’s stupid!”

Momota’s eye twitched. “Oh, yeah?”

“It means you have a savior complex on top of your ditzy Chad act,” Ouma leered. “Sheesh, and for a hot second here I thought there was actual depth to you. Disgusting.”

“Fuck off--” Momota stood indignantly, irritated and heated, and then his face turned blank.

“See?” Ouma twirled his hair, unimpressed. “Look at that, all I have to do is be a little shitstain and you’re back to normal.”

“Normal, huh…” Momota sighed. “I dunno what normal even is for me anymore.”

“An idiot with hair and a shitty goatee and an incel getup like you could never be normal,” Ouma blinked, completely straight-faced.

“I hate you,” Momota’s face was red with irritation, teeth gnashed together, but somehow still was smiling. “Goddamn. I pour my heart out and you’re still like this. Don’t ever change.”

“Wouldn’t be nice to you even if you paid me,” Ouma yawned. “Now, how are you gonna end the game?”

“I was thinkin’ of just unlocking the trial room and dragging everyone there for a roast session,” Momota tapped his fingers along his arm. “Y’know, with Season 53 dragging on plus both of us being the last murderer-victim pair--”

“The _huh,”_ Ouma’s eyes widened incredulously. _What the fuck does he mean, ‘season’?_

“Oh…” Momota rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, this killing game is meant to be a TV show broadcast to people and everything about us was fabricated. Though I figure it isn’t a global audience, that was an exaggeration. There’s a formula and people who think it’s fiction, and a lie, or whatever-- oh, and the first loop we worked together ‘cause you made a plan to create a murder scene that would dismantle the game. You built yourself up to be a villain then made it look like you murdered me when it was actually the other way around, and we were the last pair to die before the final trial where the others outed the mastermind.”

Ouma… was a murderer, that meant. In another timeline… he’d broken DICE’s rules… If DICE even existed, since they were fiction? What on earth--

“Don’t sweat the details,” Momota sighed, picking up on Ouma’s shock. “A lot of terrible shit happened. It’d take too long to explain it all.”

“...” Ouma was curious, but whatever. “You’re not responsible for saving people. If someone does something so painfully stupid that they die, it’s not your problem.”

“It _is_ my problem,” Momota insisted. “I need to save everyone so that we can all get out and so that I can stop looping--”

“Your ego’s a bigger problem,” Ouma retorted. “What sort of stupid plan is that?

“Fuckin-- touché, you stupid asshole,” Momota buried his face in his hands, tired. _“You_ of all people don’t get to talk shit about _me_ having stupid plans when you-- y’know what, never mind, I don’t have time to bitch about it--”

“Awwh, I’m bored!” Ouma yelled, waving his hands wildly in the air. “Fuck! Fuck this! You’re the most boring goddamn person alive!”

Momota sighed again, then laughed. 

“I said what I said! There’s nothing special or cool about you and your hero complex, Momota-chan,” Ouma only shook his head, tsking in genuine irritation. “You’re just as boring and ordinary as the rest of us.” 

“Do you hate me even if I’m boring?” Momota asked, a knowing grin on his face.

“I hate your face,” Ouma avoided the question, turning his nose up in the air. He paused. “You’re boring and have an ugly face, but at the very least, you’re not a bad person.”

Momota looked surprised. "You actually think that?"

"No, it was a lie," Ouma lied. “Truth is, I still think you suck. You’re the worst frenemy-slash-nemesis any supreme leader could ask for.” He put his hands around his mouth to shout at the sky. “GONTA! WE’RE DONE HERE! OPEN UP!”

=

Soon, they began to climb out of the underground area with the Death Road. It only occurred to Ouma then that there was something he still didn’t know. 

“Hey,” he looked down at Momota, climbing behind him on the ladder. “Momota-chan. Who _is_ the mastermind who trapped us here?”

“Huh?” A split second later, Momota’s eyes widened. “Oh, right! I didn’t tell you this loop. It’s Shirogane.”

Ouma nearly slipped off the ladder.

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: this is a gen fic  
> me: [dumps a bunch of squint-and-you'll-see-it oumotaish hurt/comfort feelings in this chapter]
> 
> i say this genuinely, with my entire chest and heart: whoops
> 
> next chapter will be the last one! thanks for reading!


	6. The Mastermind Mockery Spectacle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone mocks Tsumugi’s utter failures as a mastermind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end as we all know it! Will Momota break out of his time loop?! /joke
> 
> This is more of an epilogue than a proper chapter, so it is much shorter than the rest of them.

“So, you failed,” Momota yawned. “Like, terribly. Horribly. Out-of-this-world badly. I haven’t seen a televised trainwreck this bad since the last national election.”

Shirogane grit her teeth. This really wasn’t how any of it was supposed to go.

Momota had gone and spilled something all over the hallway, then asked Toujo to go to the bathroom to find cleaning supplies, where she had stumbled upon Shirogane’s hidden library room. There was clear evidence pointing to Shirogane, and Monokuma cheerfully agreed to a class trial to out the mastermind, where they were now, shaming her instead of arguing over a murder.

What a pathetic way to end the season.

“So everything from the start was because of you,” Amami said, somehow looking more disappointed than rightfully mad. “Well.”

“Amami-kun would’ve died if Momota-kun hadn’t gone with him to the bathroom,” Akamatsu shivered.

“So would you, Akamatsu-san,” Saihara murmured, most annoyed of the trio. “If Amami-kun had gone to the library, you would’ve been the blackened if not her.”

“The motive videos were also foolish,” Toujo sniffed. “I understood after Momota-kun pointed it out, certainly, but there was no reason to invent such preposterous stories.”

“Yeah,” Hoshi tsked. “I see how it is, Shirogane. You take us all for idiots.”

“You couldn’t stop one guy from ruining your plans?” Harukawa narrowed her eyes at Shirogane, equally as disgusted as she was pissed off. “That too, five times over?”

Shirogane twisted her mouth. “You don’t get it.”

“God says you’re a miserable little worm, Tsumugi,” Angie beamed happily. “Consensual ritual sacrifice would’ve been fine, but you had to be bad and attempt murder.”

“A book that brings dead people back to life,” Shinguji scoffed. “You truly believed people would murder for that?”

“You may be a girl, but this is absolutely ridiculous,” Chabashira wrinkled her nose, clearly displeased.

“Nyeh… exactly,” Yumeno scowled.

“Fuckin’ stupid as shit,” Iruma simpered. “Just let us out, bitch!”

“I concur,” Kiibo rolled his eyes.

“Wow, even the robot thinks you’re an idiot!” Ouma gasped theatrically. “For once, I agree with Kiiboy!”

“My name is Kiibo,” Kiibo hissed back.”

“Can you please release us from here, Shirogane-san?” Gonta pleaded. “You’re still a friend to Gonta, but… this isn’t right.”

Fifteen people glaring daggers at her in a trial room. Splendid. This was probably the worst Danganronpa season anyone had seen. 

Shirogane sighed. “Fine,” she muttered. “I doubt anyone’s actually still watching anyway.”

If there _was_ still an audience watching, it’d be humiliating, but considering how poorly she’d ended up managing it, she sorta deserved all the mockery.

“All sixteen people still alive,” Shirogane sighed, positively morose. “What a joke.” She narrowed her eyes, pointing angrily at Momota. “And it’s all your fault!”

“Me?” Momota tilted his head, like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing. 

“Yes! You!” Shirogane shrieked. “You conveniently destroyed every single bit of plot and characterization I was planning for!”

“Harsh,” Momota whistled. “But whatever. If everyone’s alive, it’s perfect.”

“Congratulations on winning,” Shirogane muttered with a sneer. “How on earth you did it is beyond me.”

Loud rumbling noises filled the surroundings. The set was falling apart, and the cage would open. Once they stepped out, they’d go back to the outside world, away from the virtual simulation where the game was taking place.

“Let’s go, guys,” Momota grinned, looking more relieved than Shirogane had ever seen him, even when he was acting cheerful. “Time to get out of this academy.”

They all filed out, chatting with one another as they walked.

Shirogane looked back at the academy she had created and huffed a breath, then walked out with them.

_Whatever. It’s not like they pay me much to continue their show, anyway._

=

And instead of looping right back to the beginning, waking up in a strange school again and having to walk back to the gym, Momota Kaito finally woke up in the real world, alive with everyone else and this time without a death game looming overhead.

Ruining everything never felt better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Thank you guys for following this spontaneous crack-ish fic of mine this whole time! I did not expect this fic to get the attention it did but so many people enjoyed this story and I'm glad to have written it. Abrupt and short though this may have been, it's nice to see it through to the end.
> 
> If you'd like to see more V3 content (or more of my writing in general), check out my other fics here or follow me on tumblr & twitter (both also @khattikeri!) If you'd like to tag me in fanart on instagram, I'm khattikeri there too.
> 
> See you all soon! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated! For more Danganronpa content, check out my tumblr, my twitter, or the rest of my fics on ao3! I'm @/khattikeri on all three platforms.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Kokichi Ouma Saves Everyone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28781013) by [Kirumi_Tojo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirumi_Tojo/pseuds/Kirumi_Tojo)
  * [Stuck In A (torturous) Time Loop](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29252793) by [Seaxereddington](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaxereddington/pseuds/Seaxereddington)




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